


The Second Passing

by skyemaxwell



Category: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: Alternate Universe - Geisha, F/M, Post-Canon, Spirit World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyemaxwell/pseuds/skyemaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to go the bath-house." She said.<br/>"Only gods go there."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Festival

**Author's Note:**

> Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi is, and will always be, my favorite animated film of all time. I've always thought it would be nice if Chihiro and Haku could meet again, but deep in my heart, I think I understood it would never happen in the human world. So that would mean Chihiro would have to return to the spirit world. But it was not a place that one can "return" to so easily. 
> 
> And so this is the product of my over-dramatic imagination refusing to let me sleep, until I managed to find a way to bring Chihiro and Haku together again. 
> 
> As usual, comments would be highly appreciated. Inspiration is a fickle thing.

Chihiro would pray every day.

Her parents did not understand it: they had never been a religious family. Her friends would tease her every morning, since she was always late for class. She always passed by the temple in the mountain before coming to school.

She had made friends with the caretaker there, who scolded her about bringing too much food offering. It was bad for the environment! Still, she begged him not to throw away the _dangos_ she brought the other day, even though they were rotting on the ground.

Chihiro herself did not understand it. There was nothing that really tied her to the temple; except maybe for that strange feeling of nostalgia that she just couldn’t seem to shake off. Outside the temple, she was a normal girl who went to school, fretted over her numbers and begged for seconds at the dinner table. It was so easy to forget fleeting emotions.

But she was terrified of forgetting.

Perhaps that was why she visited every day. To see if her heart still stirred with that unnamed emotion: deeper than the gaze of the ocean, darker than the shadows she sometimes caught herself watching at night.

Every day, she would go up to the temple, ring the bell to awaken the spirits and clap her hands until they stung, so they might hear her. Then she prayed.

Although for what, she could not exactly say. She simply grasped onto the emotions in her heart, like a drowning man, and closed her eyes and prayed.

 _Please, please,_ she would whisper.

Please, what?

Some days, she prayed for summer days to go on forever. In the winter, it would be too dangerous to go up the mountains, and they were the most trying period. On those chilly mornings, Chihiro would stay in her bed for as long as she could, eyes squeezed shut and trying to remember.

But when the door opened and mother came bustling in with an annoyed reminder that she would be late for school, the day would begin; and Chihiro would feel something inside her die a little bit.

 

* * *

 

She would be turning sixteen this summer, and it would not come fast enough. Winter had been particularly bitter this year, and she had spent most of it lying in bed.

A cold, her mother had said. She will be fine with a little rest and some food.

But Spring was on its way and Chihiro was not getting any better. Her classmates all wrote cards from school: handwritten letters, silly pictures, all wishing her a quick recovery from her illness.

A doctor came to visit her. And another one. And yet another, this one from the city.

They looked at her, held her wrist, listened to her heart and murmured to themselves.

But they could not find what was ailing her.

“It is a sickness of the heart,” they said. “There is no medicine in this world for it.”

Her mother cried and beat her hands to the floor, but Chihiro could barely lift her head to comfort her. She was so tired. Her father did not come to see her for a long time, but she heard whispers that he had begun drinking again.

 _No, father_ , she wanted to say. _Mother will cry again._

But she was too tired.

Perhaps, if she could sleep for a little while, it will be alright. Tomorrow morning, she would definitely tell father to stop drinking.

 

* * *

 

It was the sound of singing that roused her.

Chihiro opened her eyes, slightly disoriented, and found herself in darkness. It must still be evening. Chihiro moved towards the window to look outside. Lights were glimmering in the distance and there was faint music-- the distinct sound of _taiko_ made her smile. A festival! She loved festivals.

She raced outside, without a thought, simply eager to reach the festivities. She felt so light, so much better than yesterday, when she could hardly open her eyes. Perhaps now, she would be able to swallow some warm milk, and even eat a sweet. Tomorrow, she could write back to her classmates in school.

Thoughts of food made her realize her hunger. The pang in her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten anything other than thin crackers, for days. In the midst of contemplation, she ended up losing her way.

Where was she even going, she wondered, as she walked listlessly along. She was hungry. She must find food.

As she walked along the riverbank, she realized there were lights. They were warm and bright, and they were the clearest thing she could see. They called out to her, as if waving an inviting hand, and saying: _Come._

So she followed.

As she walked along the stretch of water, simply following the lights, her mind became more like the murky waters of the riverbank; and she feebly struggled to remember what she was doing there in the first place. 

She was brought out of the haze as something solid bumped into her from behind, the jarring contact bringing the world once more into a dizzying focus. She found herself on a dirt path: a narrow, winding trail that led up and into the heart of the mountain. Around her, figures in strange clothing walked steadily, patiently towards the top. She glanced around, comforted by the lights that lit up the path and immediately started walking. She needed to get to the top.

She thought she saw wings.

They were peeking through somebody’s silk sleeves. She stifled a giggle as an image of a crow appeared in her mind: large and beady-eyed, wearing an expensive dress. She brushed past a tree, who did not seem bothered that she had not apologized properly. Trees were such nice beings.

At the end of the trail, there was a large, stone archway. She was busy staring up at the writings carved on the stone, wondering why the place felt familiar, when there was a tap on her shoulder. 

She turned, wondering who it could be, but it was only the train conductor. He was holding out a hand, as if asking her, _where do you want to go_?

She thought about it for a while.

Where did she want to go?

“A bath-house.” she said.  

The train conductor shook his head.

“I want to go to the bath-house.” She said, more clearly.

“It is for the gods.”

“I cannot go?”

“You are not a god.”

“How do I become a god?”

“You must be born one.”

She wondered if this was true. She wandered off, reminded once again how hungry she was, when she saw a plate of rice crackers sitting on a stone tablet. She reached for one, when her hand was slapped away.

“You cannot eat that.” A coarse voice said, angrily. “It is for the gods.”

She clutched her stinging hand to her chest. 

“But I am hungry.” She protested feebly.

“Of course you are. You spirits are always hungry.” The hare muttered; and she thought, childishly, what a silly voice he had. “Go to your family’s house. Perhaps they have prepared something for you.”

She paused, a little thrown. A family! Yes, she had a family, didn’t she?

As she stood there, trying to remember who her family was, there was a gentle whisper in the air. She glanced up and saw a red fox.

“Who are you?” she wondered. 

“I am the spirit that lives in this temple. You are the girl that comes here in the Summer.”

“Are you a god?”

“I am not. I am only a guardian.” The fox cocked his head to the side. “Why have you come here today?”

“I am hungry.”

“There is no food for you here.” The fox replied simply. “And you will be fighting with many hungry spirits today. Do you have any money?”

She checked her pockets.

“Your parents sent you away with nothing on you?” The fox looked surprised. “Or have you no parents?”

“I have a family!” She cried strongly. She just couldn’t remember them. “Where do I find money?”

“You must work for it, of course.” The fox replied. “If you do not work, you will disappear from this world, and I will not get to eat your offerings again.”

“I do not want to disappear!” She cried. “I will work. Where can I find work?”

“Not here. I am already guardian here.” The fox tossed his head to the direction of the lights. “You must find work elsewhere.”

“I want to go to the bath house.” She remembered. “Perhaps I can work there.”

The fox threw his head back and laughed.

“Only gods go there! They will not accept someone as dim as you. Look to the brothels, perhaps they will take you.”

She did not know what a brothel was, but she thanked the fox all the same.

“For you.”

The fox handed her a simple coin, engraved with the markings of the temple.

“It will buy you nothing, but perhaps a single ticket to the train.” The fox tossed his head. “As thanks, for the _dangos_ you brought me.”

She thanked the fox again and showed the coin to the train conductor. She held on to her ticket and climbed aboard the train, which seemed to be bursting with people. She took one last look out the window, trying to look for something.

But even as the train began to move, she could not remember what she was trying to see in the first place.


	2. Gold

She had counted to the sixth stop.

She elbowed her way out of the crowded train and just barely managed to get out before the doors slid close. She took a moment to watch the train disappear from view before turning to follow the last of the people out of the station. They were walking along a dirt road, lined with people sitting on the ground, moaning with hunger and staring up into the distance.

She was frightened, but kept her voice to herself. She kept walking, following the flow of people and soon enough, they were walking into a town. There were shops here, selling food that smelled wonderful, and she stopped once in a while to look at it longingly. Always, cruel hands would shoo her away, and she tried not to feel anger in her heart. 

She kept walking, taking in the old, wooden houses neatly stuck together and the paper lanterns strewn about. It was a fairly busy town, and people milled around, all headed somewhere.

“Please, will you let me work here?” She would occasionally ask, popping her head through a door.

Always, they would wave their hands to shoo her away.

A brightly-lit food-stall made her nearly throw up in hunger.

“Please? Will you let me work here?” She begged.

“You poor child,” The old man sighed, but he looked sad. “There is no work for you here. But you can eat this, if you like—“

She grabbed the bun in desperation and ate it in two bites, already looking for more.

The old man shook his head.

“There is no good ending for you here. Why have you come?”

“I want to go to the bath-house.” She said.

“The bath-house!” The old man looked surprised. “Only the gods go there. What business do you have with a god?”

She did not answer, overcome with a sudden urgency.

“Where is the brothel?”

The old man looked at her somberly.

“What would you do there?”

“The fox said I can find work there.” She replied. “I need to work, so I can stay here.”

“The brothel is not a good place.” 

“I have to find work.” She insisted, already walking away.

“Wait,” The old-man raised a hand. He had, she realized, eight of them. “If you are going down that path anyway, then I may help you find a job.”

She followed him inside his shack, and he led her through a back-door, and into a dark alleyway. They stopped in front of a small, wooden door and he knocked on it thrice.

The door whisked open and an impatient voice floated out.

“This had better be good, I’m very busy—“

“I have a new girl for you.”

She stared up at a large face, heavy with wrinkles and painted stark white. The woman was grossly fat, with three chins over an ample chest, covered in the disjointed delicacy of a silk robe.

“What is this—“

“Please allow me to work here.” She said immediately.

The woman snorted. “I have no use for brats like her.”

The door was about to be slammed in their faces, but she stepped forward, arms raised to stop it from closing. In that moment, perhaps it was the trick of the light, but the woman paused and stared at her.

“Where did you get that?” She said suspiciously.

She glanced around confusedly. Get what?

“That thing in your hair. Where did you get that?”

Her hand came up immediately to touch her hair. She felt the gentle bumps on the ribbed surface of her hair-tie, and felt a shiver run through her body.

“It was a gift.”

“Give it to me.”

She stepped back, alarmed. “No.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to work here?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“Then give that to me.”

“…will you give it back?”

“Perhaps.” The woman shrugged. “Once you have paid off your debt.”

So she moved her hand, reluctantly untying her hair, and handed the woman her tie. It glistened, even in the weak light, and she was loathed to part from it. But she needed to work. So she vowed to get it back someday, and in her heart, there was yet another thing she needed to do.

“What was her name?” The woman barked at the old-man, who was still there, standing quietly in the dark.

“She did not tell me.”

“It does not matter.” The woman grabbed her and dragged her through the door. “You will throw away your old name and live under a new name from now on. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She replied, remembering to be polite.

She glanced back outside to the old man, who was watching her with those somber eyes.

“Thank you very much.” She said, her hair falling like a curtain as she bowed her head.

But before the old man could reply, the door was slammed shut and she was dragged into her new home.

 

* * *

 

 

They called her “Sayu,” because somehow, it got around that she dreamed of going to the bath-house. When they called her name, it sounded more like a taunt, but she was not bothered by their teasing. She was more bothered at how the name “Sayu” did not sit well with her, like it was somehow wrong, and she had another name that she answered to.

“Sayu.”

But this was her name now. And she was compelled to answer.

“Yes.”

“You will be helping Gin-san today.” Tami, a fellow worker told her. She was the friendliest among the people in the house, in the sense that she was the only one who did not openly antagonize her.

“I understand.”

No one wanted to be subjected to Gin-san and her mood swings. It was the worst possible job for the lower ranked girls, and what better thing to do than pass it off to the new girl?

Sayu kept in a sigh and headed towards the upper floors.

Gin-san was the top entertainer in the Ootori House. Sayu did not understand what that meant until later, when she was allowed to serve as Gin-san’s personal help for one night.

Gin-san was, in other words, an entertainer _._ A beautiful entertainer who wore colorful robes and jewels in her hair. 

 

Gin-san sang, danced and kept company during the nights she was called out to work. Usually, she would stay in one place and serve drinks to one client. But on busy nights, she would have to move to two or three places, tottering around in her delicate shoes, despite the uneven road. She was especially bad-tempered on those nights, and Sayu found that the difficult way.

“Come quickly, you stupid child!”

And Sayu would try her hardest not to drop the strange, stringed instrument as she hurried after her.

On these nights, Sayu would end up waiting outside the establishment until Gin-san finished. She would have nothing but the instrument to keep her entertained, and she would sit there, for long periods at a time, plucking at the strings and trying to copy the way Gin-san’s fingers would move.

When Sayu was not busy helping out with Gin-san, she was busy cleaning. The Ootori house had three floors and a large yard; and Okaa-san, the head of the house, had an aversion to dust. She would hobble out of her office once in a while and slide a bony finger on the wooden banister, checking to see if there was a speck of dust. Sayu took special care to clean that same spot every time she passed by, because punishment meant no meals for the entire day.

And Sayu was always hungry.

It seemed as if she had worked for the Ootori house all her life, even though she remembered vaguely that it had been Kuro-jii who brought her here to work. She went back to visit him at his shop whenever she could, to chat with him and occasionally beg scraps from him. He was a butcher, and sometimes, he would keep the left-over scraps and entrails and cook it over some hot coal.

Time passed like running water in a stream, until everything from ‘before’ had been washed away. Still, Sayu held on fiercely to the things in heart, all that she had sworn to do. She would stare up the darkness every night and whisper to herself so she may not forget: retrieve her hair tie, go the bath-house.

“Why do you want so badly to go the bath-house?” Kuro-jii had asked her once.

She had no answer for him, so she simply laughed and begged for another _dango_.

She would eventually go to the bath-house, but she wanted her hair-tie back immediately. Every day she would run her fingers through her hair, missing her tie like it was a missing body part.

“You must pay off your debt.” Okaa-san had told her impatiently when she asked about it. 

“How will I pay off my debt?”

Okaa-san had a cruel, raspy laugh from years of smoking tobacco. 

“If you can give me 1000 gold coins, then I will consider your debt paid.”

That night, Sayu cried into her pillow in despair. Where would she get even one gold coin? The only way she could get an occasional copper coin, was when she was sent out on errands. 

So she thought, and she thought, and she thought, until one night, she saw Gin-san receiving a gold coin from a patron.

“Gin-san!” Sayu couldn’t control herself, staring at the shining coin in her hand. “How does one get gold coins?”

“Don’t even dream of it.” Gin-san had laughed the same cruel laugh as Okaa-san. “I am the most famous entertainer in the whole of _Amamachi_ ; gold coins are something that comes naturally to me. You will never even be able to touch it!”

And Gin-san had made her clean her shoes all night, as if to punish her for her insolent thoughts. But something had settled in the pit of Sayu’s stomach. Something that she had not felt for a long time, perhaps ever.

It was determination.

Somehow, _somehow,_ she was going to be just like Gin-san.


End file.
